Robin lowered her gaze to the starscape beyond the ship's hull—a boundless, glittering river of light. Over the years, she had traveled countless worlds, witnessed breathtaking vistas, and met fascinating souls.
Yet none could compare to Anming.
What meaning did beauty hold without him? The cosmos felt desolate without his presence. Even if she kept singing, where was the joy without the sound of his zither?
In all these years apart, the only thing Robin truly poured her heart into was Kachi-Pey's restoration. The memory pavilion Anming left behind had long vanished, but so too had the Stellaron's corruption.
Now, thanks to Robin's investments, Kachi-Pey had regained much of its ecology—its verdant landscapes pristine, untouched by human technology.
Had she wished, Robin could have transformed it into a paradise rivaling Penacony. But Kachi-Pey held memories—for her, for Sunday, and for Anming.
She would share this world with no one. Let no outsider tarnish its sanctity.
Kachi-Pey was now her private planet. None could trespass save Sunday.
Robin had painstakingly rebuilt every structure to match the past. Yet she knew it was a farce.
What mattered was never the buildings, but the people who once inhabited them.
A soft laugh escaped her lips—ethereal, yet tinged with sorrow.
Was it her refusal to let go... or had Anming never truly left?
"Miss Robin, the Luofu's Jade Gate is sealed. No vessels may enter or depart."
The crewman bowed respectfully. This ship, funded by the IPC for Jarilo-VI's aid, carried staff who understood Robin's significance all too well.
Once merely a galactic idol, Robin had ascended to something far greater after Penacony's salvation—a symbol of hope, worshipped by millions.
No faction dared overlook her influence.
"Thank you for your hard work." Robin smiled gently. "You needn't trouble yourselves further."
"The honor is ours. May your journey be pleasant."
The man retreated, his back damp with sweat. Why did such a gentle presence feel so... terrifying? Even Topaz didn't inspire this dread.
Robin's emerald eyes reflected the Milky Way as she glided to the airlock. With a press of a button, pristine wings unfurled, carrying her into the cosmos.
A little bird, soaring toward her destined sky.
Only where Anming dwelled could she truly fly free.
No one understood her choice. No one would condone it.
She didn't care.
Anming was hers.
This time, right or wrong, even if he sought to rebuild Eden—she would stand by him.
If it meant burning this tedious world to ashes, so be it. Happiness lay in sharing the future with her beloved.
Robin's halo shimmered with Harmony's light. She could infiltrate the Luofu unseen... but why bother? The universe knew her name.
Who would deny Robin, the embodiment of love and hope?
Luofu - Divination Commission
"Shijie, your tea."
Anming set a steaming cup before Fu Xuan, who now wore casual sleepwear—white robes billowing like an immortal's, her third eye adding an air of mystery.
Crossing her slender legs, Fu Xuan tested the cup's warmth. For a fleeting moment, tenderness flickered in her gaze.
Thud. A dagger landed beside the teapot.
"This doesn't mean I've forgiven your philandering," she huffed. "Just a... temporary reprieve."
A sip. Then she turned away, hiding the tear that splashed onto the floor.
Why did such sweet tea taste so bitter?
Fu Xuan had endured centuries of silent sorrow, confiding only in the moon and that stubbornly barren peach tree.
"Xuan'er."
Anming pulled her into an embrace. "I was wrong."
"Wrong?" She glared through damp lashes. "You don't even know how."
Then he remembered Stelle's sage advice—"When a girl scolds you, she doesn't want apologies. She wants you to grab her and kiss her senseless!"
(Said "Love Master" had zero practical experience, having only woken up months prior. March 7th's review: "One talks nonsense, the other believes it. A match made in genius heaven.")
Anming obeyed.
Fu Xuan's eyes widened as he crushed their lips together. Her feeble resistance lasted mere seconds before her hands settled weakly against his chest.
Tears spilled freely now—centuries of longing poured into that kiss.
"Stupid Anming... you could never make up for all this time," she gasped, flushed and breathless.
"Then I'll kiss you every day, until Shijie says it's enough."
"Pervert... rogue... idiot." Fu Xuan hid her face in his shoulder, whispering: "...I love it."
Only Anming could treat her this way.
And she cherished every second.
The bitterness in her heart melted into sweetness.
No tea could ever compare.